The Stranger
by White Truffle
Summary: What happens when the heir to the throne of Spain fleds to Britain. Will she be able to escape her past? LancelotOC
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: **Sadly,I do not own 'King Arthur'. However, I do wish I owned Lancelot (or Ioan Gruffudd for that matter. Freakishly hot!)

**Author's Note: **

This is my first time writing a King Arthur fiction. In fact, this is my first time writing a (so-called) proper fiction! Please be nice. I know I suck and my English is not _that _good but I'm learning! : )

Please R&R. Reviews are welcome with open arms and each reviewers get cyber cookies! I LOVE reviews, they make me feel loved ::squeee!:: but please do not flame. I get disheartened easily ::smiles sheepishly::

I would like say a BIG thank you to Julie A.K.A Stahlfan125. She inspired me start writing with her ever so beautiful fics.

_

* * *

_

_She looked at the dark haired man in front of her. He was much taller than she was; she had to look up to look at him. His dark eyes were hard and cold, it sent shivers down her spine. "Marry you?" she asked venomously masked with deadly calmness. _

"_Yes. Your father would have wanted that" he said, taking her hands into his, planting a kiss on them._

_Victoria was disgusted. This man had wanted nothing else but the throne. She smiled softly and caressed his cheek. He whirred against her hand and it disgusted her more. She could not take any more of this and without warning; she gave him a tight slapped, her eyes full of anger, "Cyrus you bastard" she hissed, "You think I do not know what you are up to? You are just waiting for my father to die. You are just using me to get to the throne. You think I am going to allow that?" she spat. Cyrus was a warlord, a commanding officer of the Spanish army. Conquer and destroy was what he did best. He took advantage of King Andiron's trust and old age as means to spread his tyranny. The villagers feared him. The King feared him too. He knew what Cyrus was capable of doing. Victoria seemed to be the only one who dared stood up to him._

_Cyrus scowled, not only did she slapped him, she even bruised his ego. He grabbed her by her wrist and held her tightly. "Listen to me Victoria. I am going to get that throne no matter what. I will kill if I have too... Now we would not want to see the King rot on his death bed now do we?" he whispered to her ear._

_Victoria twisted her hand to break free, "Do not threaten me Cyrus. Come an inch closer to my father I swear-"_

"_What? You're going to hit me with your slippers?" he cut her, laughing mockingly. He tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled her towards him. Victoria whimpered as his grip bruised her arms. "Nothing will stop me to get to the throne. And you my lovely princess..." he paused, his eyes travelled over her body lustfully, "You are going to help me. There is no one to help you now. Your father is as good as dead!" he laughed aloud._

_Angered and disgusted, she spat at his face. "Go to hell!" she gritted her teeth, writhing to break free. Cyrus looses his grip on her, a smug look on his face as he tried to keep his composure. He flashed a smile before hitting her cheek. "Do not anger me Victoria," he warned gravely before leaving her a dazed in her chambers._

_She stood numbly, rubbing her cheek as she watched him leave. She felt hopeless and lost. One thing she did know was that she had to leave. She was alone in this fight. Deep down she knew she could not win. Running from it seemed to be the only option she had. _

_That night, before creeping out of the castle, she had bid her father goodbye. Fortunately, he was fast asleep. She herself was not sure if she would ever see him again. The aged king was ill, it might be anytime soon until the day of his passing. She planted a kiss on his forehead and cupped his hands with hers lightly, "Goodbye father..." she said softly before leaving him with a heavy heart. The moment she stepped out of the castle, she felt alone than ever before. _

* * *

Below the tall masts and fluttering pennants of the vessel, the heir to the throne of Spain, stood proudly as she tried to make out what was behind the thick fog. 

It was terribly cold and her cape was the only thing that was preventing her from freezing to death. Travelling on an ancient cargo vessel was nothing but a nightmare. The journey from Spain was long and arduous. The repugnant smell of raw fish tied a knot in her stomach. She had to be careful whenever around the ship crew, some of whom have not seen a woman these several months. She was aware of their hawk's eye gaze, staring lustfully after her whenever she was around them.

Her identity was unknown on the ship. She wanted to get as far away as possible from Spain for the time being. Away from _him_. Her face was hidden under the hood whenever she went out of her cabin. To them, she was just another passenger on board the ship.

They were nearing the port. She could not wait to get off the vessel. Almost half of the journey, she was green with seasickness. With fog surrounding them, she still could not make out the port. She could only hear the bustling goings-on beyond the thick fog as they neared it. Slowly, as if on cue, the fog opened a view for her. Britain. Well, part of it. It was small and cramped and the air was filled with vile odour. She clutched her stomach, feeling sick once more. As soon as the ship dropped its anchor, she was the first line to get off. She struggled with her satchel, at the same time, forcing herself not to throw up. It was a good thing no one could see her face. She must have looked awful.

She forced her way through the crowd on the dock, making for the tavern. She needed something to drink. Something strong that would make the sick feeling in her gut disappear. Certain no one here knew of her identity, she took off her hooded cloak as she approached the bar.

"You look terribly lass," the woman behind the bar said, overtly scrutinizing her. The way Victoria was dressed certainly gave her away. A velvet maroon fit and flares travelling dress with a lace up neck detail. The long sleeved dress comes to points over the middle finger. This was the only travelling dress she had that did not look overly exquisite. "You are not from around here, are you?" she asked.

The woman was probably in her early forties. She had a kind look on her face that made Victoria feel at ease. She managed a weak smile, shaking her head. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would throw up.

"Seasick?" the woman asked again. Victoria simply nodded as seated herself at the bar. Her mouth tasted of bile. The woman laughed and patted her hand. "I know just the thing for you," she said before disappearing into the back. It did not take her long to come back with a mug in her hand. "Here, my famous remedy for seasickness. Now, drink up" she ordered. Victoria was hesitant. She looked into the mug and took a whiff of the concoction. "Well...at least it smells better than it looks," she said bitterly. Mustering up enough courage, she took a big swig from the mug. The liquid tasted bitter sweet in her mouth. As soon as it reached her throat, it had a burning sensation. Almost immediately, the sickly taste of bile in her mouth disappeared.

"How was it lass? Feeling any better?" she smiled, wiping the table counter.

Victoria nodded, feeling grateful to her. "Yes. Much better, thank you" she chuckled, the glint in her bright hazel eyes returned. "I thought I was going to die" she shook her head, laughing lightly. She rummaged through her purse for some shillings.

"Oh, forget about it. It's on the house. I'm Clare" she smiled. Victoria once again, thanked her. "Now, what brings you to this wretched country" she grinned.

"Victoria" she introduced herself. Victoria bit her lower lip, unsure of how to answer.

"You could say a change of scenery," she said simply after a while. It was too risky to reveal the truth.

Clare nodded. She noticed her hesitance and let it go. "Well, if you intend to travel around this country, I suggest you blend in" she said as she dried the mug in her hand. "Your dress, it might give you away". With the Saxons still at large in the country, the last thing she needed is to attract unwanted attention. She knew Victoria was of upper caste. From the way, she dressed and the way she brought herself, she could tell. Clare was not the type to take advantage of this. She took pity of the young woman. "Come. Follow me upstairs". Victoria, unsure of what to do, retrieved her satchel and followed behind.

Clare led her to a small room at then end of the hallway upstairs. "Let's see...I am quite sure I have something of your size in here somewhere," she muttered as she started to rummage through the heavy oak chest. Victoria looked around the room, which she assumed to be Clare's. It was small, cramped and musty. The small bed at the corner of the room was the only furniture in the room. 'How can someone live in such conditions?' she thought to herself.

"Aha! Found it" Clare bellowed, holding up, what looked like a worn lavender Roman dress. It seemed to be made of one big cloth that covered the body. She had not worn a Roman dress before.

It was unique. "I have grown out of it, as you can see" she gestured to herself. "The dress is much too small for me now. Here, take it. It is yours" she handed it over to Victoria.

Victoria touched the soft material in her hand, "It's lovely..." she said, "Thank you again" she smiled, looking at the older woman.

"Is there anything else you need?" Clare asked.

"I could really use a shower" she replied, hugging the dress to her chest. She felt clammy and uncomfortable. It seemed like a decade since the last time she had a shower.

"The bathroom is at the other end of the hall. I will get the tub ready for you.

When you are done, come back downstairs," she said before leaving her.

Victoria watched her leave. She stood alone in the room for a while before making her way out the room and towards the bathroom. She made sure it was vacant before entering. The image of her in the mirror nearly made her scream. The woman in the mirror looked horrible. She hardly looked royalty. Her raven curls were entangled. Her face was covered with dirt. Her eyes were sunken due to lack of sleep. She was not herself at all. She sighed heavily as she stripped herself before entering the tub. The warm water hit home. She lay back, resting her head at the top of the tub. She closed her eyes and for once, in a very long time, she felt relaxed.

Victoria made her way down the stairs and for the first time, the small crowd in the tavern felt silent and turned their heads to her direction. "Oh my..." she heard Clare said as she approached the bar. "You look beautiful" she complemented.

Victoria blushed, "Thank you Clare. I feel beautiful" she joked. She felt a thousand times better than before. She finally had the long needed shower.

Clare laughed, "There is a cargo wagon coming at noon. My son drives it. He will take you to the city. There would not be another wagon to take you there until next week".

Victoria took her hand into hers and gazed into her eyes. "Thank you for everything you have done for me. I do not know how to repay your kindness but with this..." she reached a small pouch from her robes and placed it in her hands. "Take this, a token of gratitude. I beg of you not to tell anyone if they asked for me," she said quietly.

Clare smile and patted her hand, "Do not worry child. Your secret is safe with me. Now get ready, it would not be long till my son arrives". Victoria nodded and put on her cloak and slung her satchel behind her back. She sat down and watched as Clare prepared something before disappearing at the back. She returned soon after, "Come lass, it is time to go" Clare took her hand and led her out to the back.

It was still foggy outside but not as bad as earlier on. A small ragged covered wagon waited for her. Beside it stood a young man, not more than in his late teens. His hair was dirty blonde and he was as tall as she was, only a few inches shorter. "This is Cedric. Cedric, this is Lady Victoria" Clare introduced us. Victoria was taken aback when Clare called her Lady. She decided to leave it. Clare had sworn she would keep whatever thing she knew about her a secret. Cedric gave her a dimpled smiled and nodded in return. "Here, this is for you. You might get hungry along the way," Clare said as she handed something wrapped in cloth over to her.

Victoria opened it up to find dinner rolls. She smiled and gave Clare a hug. "Thank you again," Victoria said sincerely. Clare nodded, "Take care lass. Be careful," she said before turning to Cedric. "Take care of her Cedric. Guard her with your life if you have too," she said gravely. This brought chills down her spine. She wanted to ask protect her from what but decided to save it for later. Victoria climbed aboard the wagon and looked outside as it started to move. She waved goodbye to Clare. Her heart felt heavy. She never did like goodbyes. She sighed and settled herself, leaning behind against the canvas. She tightened the cloak around her as it started to get cold. She gazed outside, only to realize it was already snowing. The snow-capped woods looked comforting yet eerie at the same time. She rubbed her hands together for warmth and continued staring outside, the soft rocking of the wagon slowly rocked her to sleep.

She was rudely awakened by the abrupt stop of the wagon. She must have dozed off for quite sometime.

"What have you got in there, boy?" she heard a gruff voice said. Still dazed, she strained to listen to the conversation against the howling wind.

"Nothing sir, just some goods" Cedric replied, watching the three men nervously, silently praying they would not check to see what was inside the wagon.

"Where are you taking them?" another asked.

"To the city Sir, I'd best be on my way". He knew who these men were. He had not seen any Saxons on these parts of the woods before. 'What if there are more of them?' he thought to himself. He might be able to handle this three but not the whole army.

Victoria kept silent. She looked outside, as if anticipating at any moment she would be found out.

One of the Saxons drew out his sword, "You are not going anywhere," he said simply, pointing the sword at Cedric. "Go check what is in there" he said to his comrade. The other man sat silently on his mount.

Victoria froze in her place. Her stomach did flip-flops as she heard the soft scrunching of boots on the ground as the man approached the back of the wagon.

At this point, unknown to the Saxon, Cedric slowly slid his hand under the rag by his side. He felt the hilt of his sword, waiting for the right moment to strike the Saxon. He kept his eyes on both of them.

Victoria covered her mouth, baffling her cry of dismay when the man peeked inside the wagon and saw her.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" Karr asked gleefully as he flashed a toothless smile. "Valk! Look what I found," he yelled before turning his attention to her.

"No! Do not come any closer," she warned meekly as he climbed on board the wagon clumsily.

"Do not bother screaming for help. No one is going to help you," he said harshly as he pounced on her.

The weight of him imprisoned her as she tried to push him off. He tore off her cloak and pushed her back. He gripped her hand tightly, holding them back. "Get off me! Help!" she screamed as she felt hot slobbering kisses on her mouth. His foul breath would have put a skunk to shame. She tried to twist her head away but his tongue parted her lips, pushing and probing and searching. "Don't please-" she managed a sob, fighting with all her might to ward off the assault. With one quick move, he ripped off the top of her dress, exposing her. His little eyes glistened with excitement as his gaze raked her body, his face flushed as in a fever. She screamed, her throat felt sore, only to receive a hard, throbbing hit across her face. She tasted something metallic on her lips, only to realize it was blood. She felt numb. Humiliated. Disgusted. Frightened. Angered. Helpless. She shut her eyes, waiting for the worst. All that came to her mind was how she could live with herself after the assault. If she survived this, she prayed he would just kill her after that. It would save her the humiliation and not go through the tormenting physical and emotional lesion. If he did not kill her, she would just have to kill herself. Death would be her only salvation.

Hearing her scream, Cedric wasted not a second as he drew out his sword from under the rag and stabbed the unexpected Saxon. The Saxon cried in pain before falling off his mount. Hearing his comrade cries of anguish, Valk turned to see him lying on the ground. He scowled, turning his attention to Cedric. He drew out his sword and charged towards Cedric. Cedric jumped off the wagon and counter attacked Valk's clumsy yet skilled strikes.

Back on the wagon, Karr cursed loudly in anger as he heard the clashing of swords outside.

"I am not done with you," he said near her face before retreating out the wagon.

Victoria grabbed her torn cloak by her side and covered herself. She scrambled backwards, huddling at the far end of the wagon. Her limbs were sore and aching and she felt drained. However, it did not match the emotional scar she suffered.

Karr drew out his sword and approached the fighting men. He crept quietly behind Cedric and stabbed him from behind. A baffled cry escaped his throat as he felt the blade went through his back. The agonizing pain was excruciating as Karr purposely drew his blade out of him slowly. He fell to his knees, his gaze locked on the woman in the wagon. 'Forgive me...' he thought. "Run" he whispered harshly, mouthing the word to her, hoping she heard him or at least understood. He tried to yell but it hurt him just to breathe.

Victoria watched helplessly as Karr stabbed Cedric. She wanted to scream and warned him but no words came out. Her voice defied her. She watched numbly as Cedric fell on his knees. He was saying something to her but she could not make it out. 'Run!' a voice inside of her screamed. She gasped as Karr returned his attention to her. She tried to move but her limbs were defying her. She prayed silently, willing herself to move. As if God had finally answered her prayers, she jolted up from her place and slid under the ragged overlay that separated her from the front wagon seat. She immediately took hold of the reigns and set the wagon moving. She heard Karr yelled after her. She turned back only to see the two men chasing after her on their mounts. She whipped the reigns, urging the horse to speed up. As they chased after her, a barren land came in sight. She urged the horse to go faster. As they charged through the narrow path, the front wheel of the wagon hit a tree and gave away. One of the reigns caught loose but she managed to hold onto the one still attached to the horse. It tipped to the side and dragged along as she drove it. She was almost halfway through when another front wheel of the wagon gave away. It tipped forward and she heard the ground below her crack. It was only then she realized she was in the middle of a frozen lake. Realization hit her too late as the ice below the wagon gave away and dragged her down.

Karr and Valk stood by the side of the frozen lake as they watched the wagon plunged into the cold water. "The ice would not hold our weight. Let it go Karr. There are other women," Valk said sarcastically as he started to turn back to camp. Karr stared out to the scene, cursing under his breath before following behind.

The cold icy water stabbed her like a thousand knives as she fell into the depths of the freezing lake. Her body froze and she could not feel anything. She tried to swim to the surface but it was difficult for her. She felt tired and sleepy, black dots appearing in front of her eyes. She felt the air running out of her lungs. She panicked, struggling and kicking with every strength she had left, trying to reach the surface.

It seemed like an eternity as she reached the surface, coughing and gasping for air. She dragged herself out the water, pulling herself up. She trembled as the cold air hit her body, shivering at the cold ice under her naked skin. She pulled onto her drenched cloak, tightening it around her body.

At the corner of her eye, she saw the two Saxons retreating. She stood up slowly, her knees buckling under her as she tried to walk towards the opposite side of the woods. She needed to get off the ice before it started to break again.

As she reached the safety of the woods, she dropped herself to the ground. She leaned against a tree, hugging her knees as she tried to keep herself warm. A scanty torn dress below a drenched cloak was hardly clothing to keep her warm. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping someone would find her.

* * *

"Ugh, I hate this island. If it's not raining, it's snowing. If it's not snowing, it's foggy", Gawain complained, shaking his head in despair. 

"And that's the summer" Lancelot added in, smirking.

"The snow is good. Gives me a reason to cuddle up against Vanora" Bors said goofily, trying to lighten up their dampened spirits.

The knights all laughed in unison except for Lancelot who suddenly fell silent, dark eyes staring intently out into the blizzard.

She tried clenching her teeth to stop them from chattering. The cold air burned her lungs. It hurt just to breathe. She was wet, cold and hungry. It seemed like an eternity she had been there. She felt the life draining out of her. Deep down, she knew she would not make it.

Just as she was about to give up, she heard voices. It sounded distant she was not sure if it was real. She squint her eyes, trying to make out what was beyond the blizzard. She saw six hazy figures in the distant. Her heart jumped with joy as she held onto the glimmer of hope for survival. Mustering whatever energy left in her, she forced herself to walk in the dreaded weather.

"Lancelot?" Arthur asked as he rode up next to him, noticing his friend's sudden silence.

"There is something out there," he said, more to himself. Leaving the knights behind, he rode out front. He kept his gaze on the hazy figure in front. He was not sure if it was his eyes playing tricks on him but he could have sworn he saw it moved. His friends would laugh at him if it turned out to be just a bear.

She saw one of the figures coming towards her. She reached out, struggling to keep on walking. Her feet hurt, burning on the cold ground. "Help..." she whispered in a raspy voice. She felt dizzy, a loud buzzing noise at the back of head. She felt faint, fighting to stay conscious. Her surroundings slowly faded into darkness. She came to a point where she could not hold on any longer. She felt her knees gave away as she fell limply on the soft snow.

He kept his eyes on the figure, making sure it was moving and was not some figment of his imagination. He held his breath as he neared it. His vision was blurred. He was not sure at first until the figure fell to the ground. His speculations were true. He wasted no time rushing to his side. It was only then he realized it was a woman. She was scantily dressed. Her back was facing him. Dark eyes grazed over her body. The tattered clothing hardly covered her. It seemed as if someone had ripped it off on purpose. The man in him gawked at the perfect frail body. There was no mistaking lust in his eyes. Part of him was disgusted. Disgusted at himself, for thinking in such manner in this situation. Part of him took it lightly, shrugging it off. He was a man and any man was entitled to feel the way he felt.

He shook away the thought as he quickly took off his cloak and covered her. He took her in his arms and held her to his chest for warmth, carrying her to his horse.

She clung onto him weakly. Her eyes were half-open as she gazed up at her saviour. She felt safe in his strong protective arms around her. He was dark and handsome. She traced the outline of his finely chiselled features with her gaze, as if embedding the picture in her mind. His hair- she was tempted to run her fingers through his dark curls. They looked so soft.

He looked down at her, surprised to see dark brown eyes staring back at him, though he did not show it. She looked fragile and pale in his arms, reminding him of a porcelain doll. When he looked into her expressive eyes, she quickly turned away. He saw fear in them but he was not sure. He felt a sharp stab of anger run through him. He took it as rejection and it bruised his ego. He turned away to see Arthur riding towards them.

Her stomach tied a knot as she quickly turned away from his gaze. His gaze proved too intent for her. It was as if it bore right into her soul. Despite the cold, she felt her cheeks the blood running to her cheeks. There was something mysterious about his eyes. They were cold yet they projected many emotions.

"What is it?" she heard another asked. It was deep and commanding yet she noted a hint of concern in his voice. She turned her head slightly to see another looming figure approaching before her. He was riding on his horse, wearing a grand red cape. Behind him were four other men. She moaned softly as the buzzing noise at the back of her head became louder.

"She needs help" her saviour said quickly. Lancelot helped her onto the horse and mounted after her. She was about to fall off when she felt the strong arm again around her waist. With one hand, he held her to him, supporting her while using the other to hold onto the reigns.

"Is she alright?" Tristan asked Lancelot, a look of concern on his unshaven, forlorn face.

"I am not sure" he replied, straining to cast a cold gaze at her to see if she was all right. He expected her to be awake so she could see his cold hard gaze but instead his eyes soften at the sight. Her eyes closed, she was leaning against him, her face half buried in his neck. She looked peaceful and innocent. He felt her shivering violently and felt the sudden need to protect her.

"We must hurry" Arthur interrupted. The woman needed to be tended to immediately and the weather was not getting any better. Seeing Lancelot had settled her down, he urged his horse and rode out front, leading them back to the castle.


	2. Chapter2

Thanks for your reviews! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside! :D

The answer to **Jemiul's** question. I'm from Singapore. That's somewhere in Asia.

* * *

Victoria stirred from her sleep, expecting to find herself on the cold snow; instead, she was greeted by the warmth and comfort of the soft bed. Her eyes fluttered open as she tried to refocus her blurred vision. She thought the ordeal she had been through was nothing but a nightmare until she tried to move. Her whole body ached. She pushed herself up, ignoring the agonizing pain in her limbs as she sat back against the headboard of the bed.

She gazed around the room. It was big. The only light provided was the rhythmic dance of the flame on the side table and the soft moonlight that casts through the window. She looked down at herself. Her arms were badly bruised. There were tinge of bluish black marks on her arms. She frowned, trying to put together the broken remnants of memory of the ordeal. 'Where am I?' she thought to herself.

She remembered the voyage on the vessel. She remembered vividly the smell of the sea, especially the smell of fish and the taste of bile in her mouth. She grimaced at the thought. She remembered a woman. She was older than she was. She frowned, trying to remember her name... Clare. Yes, that was her name. The wagon that was supposed to take her to the city...Cedric, he was Clare's son- Cedric...dead. Yes. Dead.

A soft cry escaped her lips as the image appeared played in her mind. He died trying to save her.

_From what?_

Her heart broke when his face appeared in her mind. His face was twisted in agonizing pain as he crumbled to the ground. Two men were standing by him. One had a bloody sword in his hand. His face. Where had she seen him before? He looked familiar.

She froze.

She remembered the bruising grip on her arms. The weight of him on her. The way his gaze raked her body. The way he wheezed excitedly on her desperate attempt to escape. The thought of it was revolting. She closed her eyes shut, desperately trying to will the thought away.

Her attention was averted to the door when she heard it creaked open. "Whose there?" she asked, alarmed.

"You are awake", came the reply. Guinevere stepped into the light, wearing a warm smile on her beautiful face. "I came to check on you to see how you were doing," she said as she moved to her side. She put her hand on Victoria's forehead, "The fever has gone down" she said approvingly.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Victoria asked, a confused look on her face as she tried to ward of her hand away.

Guinevere sat on the bed, taking her hand into hers. "I am Guinevere. Do not be afraid. You are safe now. Arthur and his knights brought you back to the castle after they found you," she said softly.

"Oh...yes, I remember. I was out in the snow..." she said slowly, as if uncertain it happened.

"You almost died out there..." she trailed off as her attention was drawn to the obvious bruises on her arms. "What happened to you?"

Victoria bit her bottom lip as she looked at her own bruised arm. She was silent for a moment, trying to put it in words. "He- he tried to rape me," she said quietly, still staring down at her arm. She paused for a moment before telling her about the incident.

Instead of giving her words of comfort, Guinevere gave her a comforting hug. "It is alright now," she said quietly, patting her back as if comforting a child. She slowly broke away and looked at her. "Everything will be alright now. I promise you that" she managed a sad smile. She felt sorry for the woman. She could just imagine what it might have been for her. Almost raped and left out alone in the dreaded cold to die. Her heart went out to her. She wanted to ask more but decided to leave it for tomorrow.

Victoria was taken aback when she hugged her. She stiffened in her embrace. She did not expect that kind of reaction but she was grateful. It showed she understood her plight and she was touched by her gesture. She felt a little at ease when she told her everything would be alright though deep down, she hardly thought so. "I will be alright" she lied, patting her arm. "Thank you", she managed to flash a winning smile, though it looked fake. "I poured my heart out to you and I did not even tell you my name" she chuckled softly.

Guinevere smiled at her attempt to convince her that she was fine. From what she saw, she was a strong woman. "What is your name then?" she grinned, pushing aside her dark curls from her face and lifted her chin.

"Victoria" she replied light heartedly. The woman was no older than she was yet she treated her like a child.

"Do you need anything? Something to eat maybe?" she asked, guessing she would be starving.

"I am a bit hungry," she said nonchalantly.

Guinevere chuckled, "Thought so. I will ask the servant to bring you some warm broth and some sleeping draught. It will help you sleep. I will see you in the morning then. Good night" she said casually.

"Good night", she offered a weak smile of gratitude before Guinevere slipped out of the room quietly.

* * *

After making sure Victoria was fast asleep, Guinevere made her way to the tavern. It was late, but for the Knights, the night was still young. The tavern was a form of salvation for them. It was a place to unwind, get drunk and hook up women. 'Well, at least for the unattached ones' she thought wittily as she found Arthur together with Lancelot. Bors had always joked about Lancelot being a bad influence to married men. She smiled at that thought. Lancelot was known to be a womanizer. She was not entirely surprised. What men would not take advantage of his charming good looks and alluring personality? Despite the fact that he does, she knew there was something more to him. Only Arthur understood his volatile nature. During the arduous years they spent fighting side by side, they have forged a bond that went beyond the ties of friendship. They were like brothers. Despite the fact that Lancelot could be a conceited, sardonic and sometimes neurotic man, he and Arthur got along just fine.

"You have been brooding ever since we got back," Arthur said, noticing Lancelot's change of behavior. "Is it because of the woman?" he asked quizzically. He knew his friend always had a soft spot for women.

Lancelot shook his head, he was about to open his mouth to answer when Guinevere chimed in.

"She will be alright. The fever has gone down" she informed, purposely giving Arthur a light peck on his cheek. She laughed when saw him blushed. She knew he did not like showing his affection in public, especially with his knights around.

"Is she awake?" Lancelot asked eagerly.

"She was a while ago. I gave her some sleeping draught. She is fast asleep"

"Oh" he replied as he drank down his ale in one gulp, a grave look on his face.

Guinevere could not help but noted the disappointment in his tone. She could have been be wrong.

"Her name is Victoria" she started, seating herself next to Arthur. "She was on her way to the City when she was attacked. One of them even tried to rape her" she said, shaking her head.

"Was she alone?" Arthur asked.

"She was with a young man. He died trying to protect her"

Lancelot kept quiet but there was no doubt anger in his eyes. His hand gripped the handle of the pewter mug as he tried to contain himself. The only thought in his mind was if he found the bastard who did this to her, no force on earth would stop him from letting him suffer a horrible agonizing death. He bore hatred to those who hurt women and children. In his eyes, they were innocent and defenseless. This angered him more.

Arthur seemed to sense the anger radiating from him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No harm will come to her now. It would not do you justice if you remain enraged. We do not even know who these men are" his tone softened, trying to make him see his reasoning.

Lancelot stiffened as he listened to what he had to say. His jaw clenched in frustration as he shrugged his hand off his shoulder, cursing under his breath. He knew Arthur was right yet he did not want to admit defeat. He glared at him coldly and stood up. "I am heading off to bed" he said curtly over his shoulder before storming out of the tavern.


	3. Chapter3

Oooh! Chapter 3 already! A bit short though... I couldn't help but do a Lancelot's POV as he watched Victoria sleep. Just finished watching Pearl Habour on DVD and feeling a bit angsty... Hah! Reviews please!

* * *

He hid in the shadows, leaning against the wall by the window. The moon casting its pale light on her face. He stood there with his arms folded across his chest, gazing intently at the beautiful face in the moonlight. His eyes started at the spread of dark curls against her pillow to her porcelain-fair oval shaped face. Colour had finally come back to her cheeks as he noted the abnormally flushed rosy hue. Her nose was small and a bit pointed. His eyes travelled to her thick sensuous lips. One of the many part of the women anatomy he just loved. Her lips were slightly parted, showing her pearly whites. He was tempted to brush his lips against hers.

He was in awe with her smooth skin as his gaze travelled down her white nightgown which was carefully wide open near her chest. His gaze softened at the white swell of her breasts. It was not entirely based on lust that he was drawn to her. It was an ethereal kind of beauty that would always appeal to men. He was drawn to her because he admired her angelic beauty. Her innocence. He felt something stirred in him.

No, it was not lust. It was more like a warm fuzzy feeling.

Was it love?

He always had the love for women but this particular feeling was...different. It was much more deeper yet hollow. He contemplated in his mind to describe exactly what he was feeling. It was difficult to describe in words. He knew the feeling was there and it struck him deep. Even if it was love, something in him made him feel he did not deserve her. He felt that she was one thing he could not have. She was something someone would worship and hold her high on a pedestal. He suddenly felt he did not deserve even to be in her presence. She was too perfect for him.

A small smile shaped her lips and he wondered what she was dreaming about, something blissful no doubt. She looked peaceful. He felt as if he could just gaze at her forever. Even if he could not have her, at least he could have her embedded in his heart.

He felt his heart sank as he reluctantly tore his gaze away from her, silently slipping out of her chambers. It felt as if someone had struck a knife through his heart. The image of her would torment him. Be it day or night.


End file.
